I don’t care how many times I’m witness to it, the birth of life on my farm gives me the “joys.” Sorry, I know that’s not a proper term, but maybe it should be. Whether it’s the spinach in the greenhouse just popping it’s dicot leaves thru the soil, a sow birthing a litter of piglets, or a ewe in labor with a lamb, new life is just plain old amazing.
Because I am surrounded by life, I’m also familiar with its partner, death. My father once remarked that I handled the death of livestock better than he could have at my age. I think I was ten or eleven at the time. I know how resilient life can be; I know just how fragile it really is. There’s just no telling how something will ultimately turn out, but turn out it will, for better or worse. That’s why they call life a circle.
Today I was getting ready to gather eggs in one of the henhouses. I noticed one of the sheep calling out, and decided to take a walk to check them. Sheep being sheep, there’s no telling what might be up. My daughter Hannah snuck up behind me, stalking me like a little fox. We embraced and laughed. We chatted for a bit and then I turned my attention to the sheep while she continued her walk out to the forest.
In the time Hannah and I had talked, a ewe had had her lamb. Still wet with afterbirth, the mother steadily licking it and giving it soft mutterings of encouragement. The little lamb struggled to get up, fell, splayed out, and then tried again. A strong lamb will begin nursing in the first half hour after birth. Though we’ve had to bottle feed all kinds of animals over the years, momma is always best.
And so another life takes shape on my farm. I am richer for it, not just because of the financial aspect, but because I was witness to new life, the hard evidence that where it exists, there will always be hope.